Our Problematic Troubles
by QueenRamona
Summary: Yeah, the gang thought they had issues then, but now...just straight up problems. Transitioning from middle school to the deadly high school, J. Edgar Hoover High. We'd like to think happy thoughts, but there's nothing happy about this. Crush the poor teens, why don't ya? HxJ? RxC?


**A/N: (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧Hey wonderful people! So I'm writing this little thinga-ma-jigger to see what ya guys think. I strongly encourage critical advice and reviews, cuz really, I don't know what the hell I'm doing guys! So, be the amazaing people you are, and help? **

**Hah thanks! Now, without a further ado, my story! Hope you like it! **

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**Huey's POV**

I know people see me as a threat, someone that will get in their way, destroy everything in their world. But in my world, I see it as doing them a favor. See, they don't seem to understand the way I feel, the way I view the society we live in.

It's disturbing really, disconcerting to the senses. It's disgusting how they keep things from people, making them think we live in a glorious utopia, pure cruelty. Listen to me, and trust me with your wits, because I'm showing you reality. Don't cry, I know it's not pretty.

"None of that is true, Huey!" she cried from behind me, standing up from the grass and pointing an accusing finger at my back. I sighed, knowing I said too much already. All I said was that if she kept smiling and being happy about everything, evil will sneak up on her, catching her off guard and turning her life upside down in chaos. I know, these words are harsh.

Breaking her spirits is something I excel at, though it's never intended, well, sometimes. I want to change her little giddy attitude, constantly chirping about how beautiful life is.

"Believe what you want, Jazmine. Just know, they're all liars." I know my words make this no better, but I'm just saying what needs to be heard. So, forgive me for my everlasting insensitivity.

I could feel her teary eyes on me, those green emeralds full of hatred. I know I should feel guilty, breaking this precious girl's heart. But, as cold as ice, I carry no remorse.

I turned, daring her red anger to pounce. Instead, her accusing pointed finger lowered as her hands drooped to her sides, crying in place. I shifted my eyes back out to the horizon, one of the most beautiful things I ever laid eyes on, not wanting to watch her cry. Funny how Woodcrest isn't exactly peaceful, yet they have this calm tree on a hill, looking over the city.

Sometimes I wished I wasn't myself, wanting to be one of the kids who didn't have a care in the world. I wanted to be this way so I wasn't constantly swimming in my own thoughts, the _very_ thoughts that were constantly threatening to drown me. But I didn't want to drown, kicking as I swam.

"Don't ask me for my thoughts if you can't handle them Jazmine," I said sternly before walking off, away from the peaceful hill. I wasn't sticking around to hear her next words, not wanting the poisonous innocence to stain my conscience.

She'd probably say something like_ "Life is beautiful, Huey," _or maybe_ "Stop pouting and be happy!" _

I let it go, realizing how her words always stuck with me no matter what. On the other hand, her personality and appearance was rather contagious. The way she could walk in, make the room instantly light up with happiness at the sight of her or mention of her name. Even I might squirm, something that seemed impossible.

Sighing again, I pulled the door to my house open, stepping inside the slightly warm home. Granddad must be cooking, the smells of spice hitting my nose as I closed the front door and locked it.

My brother was sprawled out on the side couch, his head resting on the armrest as he slept soundly. I walked past quickly and headed for the staircase, not wanting to wake him. "Boy, is that you?" I heard Granddad call from the kitchen.

I stood mid-step and said, "Yes, it's me Granddad," before continuing up the steps to my shared room with Riley. Oh, how I longed for my own room, but obviously that wasn't happening. I pleaded many times with Granddad about moving into the guest room, but he insisted on keeping the room for his 'cutie pies', the ones he would bring home sometimes. I guess he'll never learn his lesson, bringing home some of the strangest of women into our home, thinking they were 'the one'. But whatever, his love life isn't any of my business.

Walking into the shared bedroom, I sat at my computer desk, hands hovering over the keyboard to type.

**Jazmine's POV**

I stomped into my house, slamming the door shut behind me. Ergh, he would never understand me. Never, ever. I'm always stuck wondering why I'm even friends with him. He's nothing but a jerk. A _very_ cute jerk, I might add.

Why waste my time with someone as upsetting as him? Telling me that 'they' were liars. Who's 'they' in the first place? The government? How does the government have any say so in whether I'm happy or not? It just doesn't make sense! _Huey_ just doesn't make any sense.

_Oh well, he's still your friend…you've known him forever, _a little voice said in my head. I rolled my eyes at that, disgusted sometimes at how naive my thoughts can be. All these years, and I still have part of the mind of my ten-year-old self. It's ridiculous!

Sometimes, I wish I listened to Huey. Maybe his corrupted mind could help me sort out my own thoughts, giving me a taste of reality and its meaning. But no, I always run off or cry, not able to bare the bitterness of his words and their sorrow.

I find it hard to believe that he doesn't hate my guts by now, wanting to put me down at any chance he gets. But he doesn't. He doesn't insult me _or_ put me down, but seems to accept my fluttery naive ways. But on the inside, I know I'm killing him softly.

Life has this hilarious way of dangling my insecurities in my face, pointing and laughing at me. My hair, for starters. I remember when I was ten, constantly thinking what people would think of the tussled mess of strawberry blond hair on the top of my head, pulled back into tight puffs. But now, I laugh in life's face, pointing and teasing. I stand a little taller now when I look in the mirror, no longer shrinking in the face of my reflection.

"Oh, hey sweetheart!" I heard my cheerful father sing, though his smile was nervous, probably recognizing the annoyed look I had on my face. My eyes darted around the room, searching for a sign of mom. But no, like always, she was never home. Probably partying or hooking up with some other guy like the whore she is-

_Calm down. _

I gave my father a meaningless wave before heading up the stairs and into my room.

Instead of blaming everything on life, I point accusing fingers at 'Memories' too. I groaned at the sight of my painted pink bedroom walls, along with the pink carpeting, pink curtains, and pink bed sheets. All of this was from when I was a girly little ten year old, my favorite color obviously being the color pink at the time. My favorite color is green now, but it's not like my room is going to magically change color schemes overnight.

I flopped onto my bed tiredly, face first, groaning into a pillow.

"Is there anything wrong sweetheart?" I heard my father call from downstairs. I rolled my eyes.

_Like hell there is. _

**Riley's POV**

I shifted on the couch, narrowing my eyes as the pain in my back registered. Ugh, I hate when this shit happens! I never mean to fall asleep on the couch, but..OW. I honestly don't see how Granddad sleeps in that recliner sometimes..

Sitting up, I turned my attention to the TV, trying to figure out was what on. Hm..BET? Yep, definitely, cuz that bitch just pulled another bitch's weave out…oh shit! The black lady on the screen slapped another lady, and then that's pretty much when all hell broke loose.

"Is that Real Housewives of Atlanta?!" Granddad said, rushing into the living room from the kitchen. I nodded my head, watching the screen in disbelief.

"Yeah yeah!"

"Oh no she didn't!"

"Eww..yes she did."

That's when my hating ass brother came strolling in with a book, that same stupid ass scowl on his face. I swear that nigga wouldn't smile if he were paid a million dollars! He plopped on the opposite couch and began reading, showing no interest in what the hell we were watching. I rolled my eyes. _He's such a faggot. _

"Granddad, don't you have the stove on?" my brother asked, not looking up from his book, wrinkling his nose. I sniffed the air, grabbing my nose at the smell of….burning chicken?

"Aw naw Granddad! Please tell me you ain't burnin' the chicken!" I yelled, giving him an annoyed look.

Granddad sniffed the air too. "Oh no! Not the chicken breasts!" he exclaimed, rushing out of the room and back into the kitchen. I sighed, shaking my head. I worry about that nigga sometimes. I mean, what if neither me or my brother is home one day..and no one is here to tell him he left the stove on? We'd come back to a burned down house..or worse..him dead.

I shook my head at the thought and looked back at the television screen. I remember there was a time when my ten year old self never _ever_ thought about bad shit like that happening, too busy in my own world. But I guess growing up can really take a toll on people, cuz it sure did to me..or maybe my brother's dumb ass matureness is finally rubbing off on a real nigga like me.

I barely call my brother gay anymore, but I have my homophobic moments. I still tease him about that big ass afro he has, telling him to cut it or some shit. I always wondered if he had cornrows..would he look like me? I chuckled at the thought. _Shit, no nigga has this pretty face,_ I thought cockily with a smirk.

Here I am, six fucking years later, and I still carry the same fly attitude. Imma teenager with the same motto on my mind: _Either roll wit' me or get dealt with._

I was thinking about get a tat of that on my chest or arm when I turn eighteen..I'm still debating though. Anyways, I'm a little ticked off at the moment for two reasons.

We're having burnt chicken for dinner tonight, dammit!

I have to go to school tomorrow. (It's a fucking hell hole!)

Man, I'm getting sick and tired of this whole 'learning' thing. It's hella exhausting! I take Spanish too, but what's the point?! Huey said learning Spanish will help me in the long run…but for what? I'm black! I don't need to learn Spanish unless I end up with some Spanish speaking bitch when I get older or something…like that shit is gonna happen!

But whatever.

I also take P.E, and I'm on the school's basketball team, so that's a step up. I'm glad too, cuz there be a bunch of sexy ass girls-

Ahem, my bad.

I would hate to be Huey's ass though. That nigga is in a bunch of advanced classes, being super smart and shit. I would've been gotten kicked out of those classes..shoot, I barely keep up in the regular classes! I know, I know. I'll do better, try and get my grades up.

_Pshhhhhh, who the hell am I kidding? _I thought with a smirk. _I'm Young Reezy, fools. _


End file.
